


charcoal and the night sky

by chuuya



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, this is set early in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuuya/pseuds/chuuya
Summary: At age sixteen, Sakamoto Ryūji had undoubtedly and undeniably fallen in love with his best friend.





	charcoal and the night sky

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't been able to write anything since 2015, please be gentle with this old worn out gasmask.. _(´ཀ`｣∠)_

Kurusu Akira had dark eyes, the color of charcoal and the night sky. They were framed by dark lashes that curved up in a way that beauty products marketed at teenage girls and young women tried to advertise. Ryūji could easily imagine his female classmates struggling with fake eyelashes and mascara, only to have a barely satisfying result in the end. They'd be angry and jealous at Akira's eyes and curse him whenever they noticed how long and oh so perfectly curved his lashes were.

Maybe that was the reason why he wore glasses - to obscure his pretty eyes? The thin, black frames seemed fragile and easy to break, the kind of glasses that broke in two as soon as Akira took a ball to the face during P.E. Or maybe he wouldn't wear them during P.E. - maybe he'd take them off because his sight was just about good enough to play basketball during class. Ryūji's mouth went dry at the idea of leaning over the table they were sitting at. Akira would look at him with those big eyes before Ryūji slid off his glasses just so he could look at his face without annoying lenses blocking the view.

If he leaned in closer, he could probably smell his hair too. It was dark, just like his eyes, and Ryūji wondered whether it got curlier than usual because of the humid weather on this day. He wanted to bury his nose in it and inhale the scent. He wanted to run his hands through it and grip it firmly, to confirm that it was real, that _this_ was real and not just something happening in his imagination.

And he wanted Akira to do the same. Wanted to feel his hands on him – maybe they'd be soft, but he wouldn't mind them being rough either – on his face, in his hair, everywhere. His heartbeat picked up at the thought of Akira's hands resting on his chest, like a girl's hands. He wouldn't mind. He had always thought that getting a cute girlfriend was his only goal for the rest of his high school life, but apparently it wasn't. When he looked at Akira and his long eyelashes and his curly hair, the idea of getting something as outrageous as a _**girlfriend**_ seemed completely foreign and unnatural to him.

No. He definitely didn't want a girlfriend.

He breathed in deeply and blinked in an attempt to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. Akira seemed to have noticed him staring because he looked up from the study notes he had been reading since the beginning of their lunch break. He raised an eyebrow – Ryūji barely managed to see it through his dark hair – and tilted his head to the side.

“Everything ok?” he asked, his voice sending a shiver through Ryūji's body. He could only nod. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn't say anything. His tongue was a useless hunk of flesh inside his mouth. It felt as though his entire body had shut down and Ryūji was forced to sit here and await whatever was going to happen.

“Alright then,” Akira said. He averted his eyes and flipped over to the next page. The rustling of paper was barely audible over the pattering of rain on the ground. Ryūji leaned forward without noticing, his hand gripping the can of soda he had bought earlier harder than it was necessary. Akira looked up. He glanced over the edge of his notebook, straight at him. His lips curved in a half smile and Ryūji could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a second.

Akira, however, didn't seem to notice that at all and continued reading in silence.

Ryūji once again swallowed dryly. This is what it must feel like. It was excruciating, confusing, painful, embarrassing and utterly life-changing – and for some weird, masochistic reason, he _enjoyed_ every second of it.

And he knew why.

At age sixteen, he, Sakamoto Ryūji, had undoubtedly and undeniably fallen in love with his best friend.

 


End file.
